I Swear There's Still Some Good In Me
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: "Are you going to keep standing there like a little street rat or are you going to get in the damn car already?" Mark gets a late-night phone call from the girl he brought into the ER. Rating fluctuates between T and M; warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Title: I Swear There's Still Some Good In Me

Author's Note_:__ This story is AU, picking up a few days after Mark brought Lexie to the ER._

_Inspiration/Prompt: Missy _by The Airborne Toxic Event. Orifinally, this was going to be a full-on scongfic, switching from normal Lexie to cracked out Lexie partway through, but then I got caught up writing this one section and it tuned into the entire story.

I hope you like it, and if you were curious, here are some of the lyrics I was going to use for this section if I had written out the whole songfic:

**_. . ._**

**_I should be more deserving than the beggar, thief, and courtesan that I've been_**

**_Oh, that I've been…_**

**_But I swear, I lie, I curse all of my dreams…_**

**_But I swear there's still some good in me_**

**_And I think if you stuck around you'd see all the honest attempts at integrity I once had_**

**_Maybe if you helped me, I'd get it right_**

**_Well, I stay awake almost every night, staring at the ceiling, wondering why I feel so bad_**

**_Why I feel so bad…_**

**_. . ._**

She picks up her phone, fishing out a card from the front right pocked of her jeans. It's crumpled up, and she has to smooth it out on the flat plane of her upper thigh until its readable. And even then, she isn't sure she can see it clearly enough.

She glances down the street, first right, then left, and realizes as she tucks her only jacket closer against the chill that things can't get much worse. She takes a breath, berating herself already, and quickly dials the unfamiliar number. The line picks up on the fourth ring, just before she's about to hang up.

"Hello?"

She lifts the phone from her ear, dangling it in front of her. _What the hell am I doing, _she thinks. The voice doesn't take time for her to think, though, and it comes out scratchy through her low-grade burnout cell phone.

"I don't have time for prank calls, so either tell me what you want or hang up." The voice is gruff and annoyed, and she finds a smile curving her lips at the sound of it. She brings the phone back to her ear.

"Hi," she says. There's a pause, and she realizes she's supposed to explain why she's calling. But she doesn't know what to say. Instead, she glances down at the worn calling card in her hand. "You're a plastic surgeon?" She asks in curiosity, running her tongue over her cracked lips and sucking on the ring on the left side of her mouth.

"Yes," the voice replies, obviously exasperated. She tilts the card in her hand, letting a bit of moonlight illuminate the letters. _Mark Sloan, _it reads. "Now, did you call because you needed my services or are you just going to waste my time with your inane questions?"

"You brought a girl into Seattle Grace's ER a couple days ago," she replies, smiling to herself at his annoyance. She feels the wind pick up and pulls her thin jacket closer around her body. It doesn't help much to ward off the chill.

"What about her?"

"I was, uh, wondering what you thought of her."

"You're the half-sister?" He guesses.

She freezes, hunched over the curb. _How does he know I have a half-sister? _"No," she replies after a moment. She rethinks the decision quickly. "No, I mean yes. I—"

"Which is it, no or yes?" He asks impatiently. "Are you the sister or not? Pick a lane."

"I'm the sister."

"Great. Well, you can call Seattle Grace's ER and check, but I'm guessing the crackhead ran out on them."

"Ran out…?"

He sighs disapprovingly under his breath. "She probably took their stock of morphine along with her."

"I didn't take any morphine," she replies hotly before she can stop herself. "Shit," she mutters to herself.

It takes the man on the phone all of two seconds to sort it out. "You're her," he states. She can hear him sigh loudly, and she rolls her eyes in accompaniment. _Don't be such a drama queen, Jesus._

"What do you want from me?" He asks, sounding bored already.

"I want to know why you brought me into the ER," she replies. She flicks his calling card between her fingers. "And why you left me a little souvenir of your visit."

"I didn't visit you," he corrects. "I dropped you at the ER because you were lying in the street like a dead fish and I almost hit you with me car. Plus, I was headed to the hospital anyway; I had some business to deal with. It wasn't even out of my way."

She smirks. "Oh, was there a boob job emergency? Or did an eighty-year-old's facelift start to sag again?"

"Funny," he mutters sourly.

"So what's with the calling card?" she inquires a moment later, adjusting her seat on the uncomfortable concrete sidewalk. "Why'd you leave it if all you were doing was dropping me at the ER?"

"Well, seeing as I was the one to bring you in, half-dead, might I add, I thought it would be good of someone to tell me if you ended up living through it or not."

"It was just an overdose."

"Way to play it down. Now no one will ever know you're a junkie."

"I don't make a secret of that fact."

"Yeah, I can tell," he replies dryly. Silence falls on the line for a few seconds. "Okay, are you going to spit it out already or not?"

"Spit what out?" She asks, frowning.

"The reason why you called," he explains. "What do you need? Money, drugs, another ride to the ER?"

"Only if it's in your arms, Dr. Sloan," she coos sarcastically.

He sighs loudly in reply, and she grins at his obvious annoyance.

"Again," he repeats, ignoring her teasing. "What do you want from me?"

She bites her lip, digging her teeth into the soft flesh of her inner gums. "A ride," she replies after a minute. "I actually do need a ride." She hears him take another annoyed breath, and she finds that she's suddenly holding her own, awaiting his decision.

"Fine," he snaps after a moment. "What street corner are you on this time?"

"What makes you think I'm on a street corner?" She replies indignantly, shifting down the sidewalk a few meters so his assumption doesn't hold completely true. Her voice is sharper than she'd intended, but only because he had been able to see right through her so easily.

"Because you're a junkie," he says. She frowns at his response, genuinely confused: there was no malice in his tone. No judgment. It was as if he was just stating a fact about her personality. _You're a junkie._

"Right," she mutters. "Well, it uh…" She exhales, tilting her head up to look at the half moon. It brings almost no illumination to her pitch-black surroundings. "It appears I may have finally hit rock bottom."

"And why the hell should I care?"

She almost laughs at his attempt to stay uninvolved. "Oh, please. Don't try to act like you don't care. You could've left me where you found me in the street, but you brought me to the ER." She smirks, half-wishing he could see it. "Don't pretend that you're the type to leave a damsel in distress," she teases.

"Oh?" She can hear the skepticism in his tone. "Are you saying that you're a damsel? Because the way it seemed to me, you didn't look to give a shit about getting someone to help you."

"Well, I'm asking you, aren't I?" She retorts. "Are you coming to get me or not?"

She listens to him sigh again, noting how familiar the sound has become over the last few minutes. "What street corner are you at, again?"

. . .

It's an hour later when she finally sees headlights appear on her darkened street. She gets to her feet, waiting as he puts the car in park and turns off the ignition.

"Jesus," he mutters, stepping out of the car. "Could you have picked a shittier neighborhood? I'm surprised you haven't been stabbed or killed in the time it took me to get here."

"Yeah, well, you took long enough," she mutters ungratefully, walking towards the car.

He holds out his hand when she reaches him. "Mark Sloan."

She stares at it before slowly raising her eyes to his. She glares at him until he drops his hand. Instead of offering her name, she steps around him, reaching for the passenger door. Just as she pulls it open, it slams shut. Her angry eyes flash to his again, and if he weren't twice her size, she'd snatch the keys and drive off without looking back. But she can see the muscles through his shirt, and she knows there's no way she'd be able to make off without him getting to her first.

He stays silent for the three seconds it takes her to resign to her fate.

"Give me a name," he instructs, "or no free ride for you."

She stares at him, her eyes black slits in the dark night, and holds his gaze as she spits on the ground. The message is clear: _Fuck you._

"Ooh, tough girl," he smirks, stepping back. Before she can stop him, he's back in the driver's seat. She reaches out for a door handle. Her face scrunches in anger when she finds it locked and hears him turn on the ignition. She scowls at him, watching as he drives away without another word. When he reaches the far end of the block, he stops at a red light. She watches, curious, as he rolls down the window and sticks his head out. "Any last words, junkie?" He shouts back at her.

She hangs her head, groaning to herself loudly—but not loud enough that he can hear it. She knows it's six seconds until the light turns green, so she takes a few steps forward.

"It's Lex," she calls after him. "That's my name." She watches as his head disappears back inside the car. A second later, he's reversing straight back to her. He rolls down the window, catching her eye across the passenger seat.

"Lex?" He repeats dubiously, certain that she's given him a fake name.

She rolls her eyes, exhaling impatiently and tapping her foot on the cracked pavement. "Fine, Lexie. Alexandra. Whatever."

She watches in quiet anger as a smirk spreads over his face. "Alexandra," he repeats slowly, as if tasting the name. She refrains from jumping into the car and hitting him in the face. _It won't help to kill your ride before you've even gotten the ride, _she tells herself. _Tone it down. Five seconds._

"That would be my birth name," she replies, forcing her voice to stay calm.

He surprises her after a few seconds by laughing quietly. Her eyes narrow at him, knowing she's being ridiculed but unsure of the reason why.

"It suits you," he chuckles.

"Oh, fuck off," she mutters.

"Excuse me?" He asks through his laughter.

She eyes him defiantly. "I _said_, fuck off," she repeats menacingly.

Her tone only causes his grin to widen, and if she really weren't so desperate for outside help, she'd be halfway down the block by now. She looks at the dark streets longingly, knowing every twist and turn even without light to guide her. When her eyes return to the car, he's disappeared. She looks around for a moment, spinning around in case he's crept up behind her. She almost jumps when the passenger door's window rolls down before her. She leans down cautiously, casting a suspicious eye inside.

"You going to keep standing there like a little street rat or are you going to get in the damn car already?"

She pulls open the door without a word, taking a seat inside. She's barely pulled the door shut before he's driving off, speeding down the rain-slicked back alleys.

"Where are we going?"

"_We_ aren't going anywhere," he corrects, glancing to her and quickly doing a once-over. She watches as his eyes linger on her tattoos and piercings. "I'm taking you to a clinic."

"I'm not high," she replies.

"Yeah, but you were recently." She can feel his gaze traveling over her again, but she resolves to stare straight ahead out the window. "And if you don't get help soon, you'll be even worse off than you think you are now."

"I have no money, no clothes, no home, and no way to get any of those things," she informs him. "How could it get any worse?"

"Well, you could be going through severe cocaine withdrawal, for one." He glances over, grinning. "I hear coming down from that one's a _bitch._"

She holds her tongue, refraining from cursing him out again. "I never said I wanted to go to a clinic," she replies instead.

"Yeah, but it's what you meant when you said you hit rock bottom."

She looks over, sullenly meeting his calm, blue eyes.

"That's why it took so long to get here," he tells her. He leans down, grabbing a small stack of paper from a compartment built into his door. He tosses the contents on her lap. She glances down at the papers, which consists of mainly brochures for rehabilitation clinics.

"What the fuck makes you think I'm going to rehab?" She snarls, shoving the papers to the floor of the car. She crumples them under her feet, but it doesn't seem to faze him.

"Well, I'm certainly not taking care of you," he replies. "But I'm also not going to leave you in the gutter to rot." He glances over to her. "Like you no doubt would have if I hadn't shown up."

"I can take care of myself," she snaps.

"Yes, and that's why you called for help, now, isn't it? Because you're so strong and independent."

"For having come to my rescue, you're being a real asshole about it."

"Ah, so you admit it," he replies. "I did rescue you."

"If you can call not running me over with you car 'rescuing,' then sure."

He chuckles quietly, looking over to her. Her head's rested against the glass of the window; he guesses she's using the chilled surface to dull a headache.

"We've got two hours in this car together," he informs her, "so you can either get used to me being an ass or you pick your next street corner for the night."

"Two hours?" She repeats, turning her head to look at him.

"I'm taking you to Bellingham." He nods at the mess of shredded paper by her feet. "If you'd taken the time to look at those brochures, you would know where we're going. It's called—"

"The Bellingham Drug Abuse Rehabilitation Center," she rattles off. "It offers detox programs, extended treatments, counseling sessions, therapy, and almost a hundred other useless programs to help those trying to 'kick the habit' in a safe and secure environment where they can grow out of their drug dependence and into a healthier life. The focus mainly on substance abuse cases, but—"

"How did you do that?" He cuts in, staring at her as they pull up to a red light. She tilts her head away from the window for a moment, eyeing him expectantly. "I researched this place for forty minutes," he continues, "and even I didn't know all that."

"Yeah, well…" She sniffs, looking away in disinterest. "I happen to have a good memory."

"You looked at those papers for a fifth of a second," he counters. "You couldn't have even read it all that fast."

"Well," she yawns. "A fifth of a second is usually all it takes."

He stares at her, confused. "A fifth of a second is all what takes?"

She sighs, lifting a hand to rub her face tiredly. "I have a photographic memory," she admits after a couple seconds. In her periphery, she watches as he leans back in his seat, blinking in surprise. "A fifth of a second, that's all it takes," she informs him.

"To memorize?" He asks, not quite able to believe the worthless junkie he almost ran over has one of the most rare and most envied abilities in the world.

"To know," she corrects. He glances over, finding her dark eyes trained on his face. "Once I see something, I never forget it. I don't memorize it, I just I _know_ it. It's in my head forever."

"Well," he begins, curious, "what if you had to—"

"Question me later," she mutters, already turning her back to him and lowering the seat back. "I'm going to sleep."

"Fine," he replies, watching as she curls her body into a small ball. The car idles in silence.

"It's green," she mutters a few seconds later.

"What?" He asks, leaning towards her to hear her more clearly.

She looks over her shoulder. "I said, _it's green._" She looks pointedly at the changed stoplight.

"Oh," he mutters, shifting back into his seat and pulling forward. He glances back to her as they head down yet another darkened street, but she doesn't say anything else. After ten minutes of this repeated behavior, he hears her groan aloud. He stops the car in the middle of the street. "What's wrong with you?" He asks immediately. "Are you going to puke?"

"No, I'm not going to puke," she mutters harshly, half uncurling out of her ball to glare at him. "But I _will _if you don't stop doing that."

"Doing what?" He questions, narrowing his eyes at her.

"That," she calls, throwing her arm out at him. "Stop staring at me!"

"I'm not staring at you," he replies.

She shakes her head, muttering something under her breath that he doesn't catch, and unbuckles her seatbelt.

"What are you—"

"I'm sleeping in the back," she replies, clambering over the console. She points her finger at him, catching his eye in the rearview mirror. "Don't look at me," she instructs. "Keep your eyes on the road and wake me when we get there."

"Fine," he replies, moving to drive the car forward again.

"And if you so much as touch me," she warns, "I will break your surgery hand."

"Good to know," he mutters, turning on the radio and pulling forward again. He can't help but spare a quick glance back at her, flexing his right hand as he does so.

. . .

With almost no traffic due to the early hour, they made it to Bellingham in a little over half of the time it would have taken otherwise. Though she tried to sleep, Lex never quite fell into unconsciousness. She was too on-edge in a stranger's car, especially when she knew he looked in the rearview mirror almost every twenty seconds to check on her. But she pretended to be asleep anyway. That way they didn't have to talk.

Admittedly, she was quite surprised when they didn't immediately make their way to the rehab center at the first light of dawn. When she felt the car crawl to a stop, she shook herself awake, attempting to make it genuine. She sat up, exhaling in a fake yawn, just as he was putting the car in park.

"Where are we?"

"Some café about thirty miles south of the center," he replies, getting out of the car. She exited the backseat cautiously, staring when he held the door open for her. He shuts it once she stepped out, locked the car, and puts the keys in his pocket. "You hungry?" He asks, leading the way to the eatery without a backward glance. Not seeing any other escape, she follows after him in silence.

. . .

"All right," he calls, turning off the ignition and getting out of the car. He looks up at the grey sky, casting his eye around the large clearing, filled with gravel and ringed by enormous evergreens. "Last stop."

"Great."

He glances over, finding that his companion has also gotten to her feet. He watches as she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes and inhaling the mountain air. Her chest rises and falls slowly.

"What," she begins threateningly without opening her eyes, "did I say about staring at me?"

"Hm," he mutters. "I can't seem to remember. Not all of us have such a brilliant memory, you know."

She opens her eyes, turning to glare at him. "Here's a refresher: Don't do it." Her eyes leave his face a moment later, turning to stare at the imposing brick building down the lane. There's a large wrought-iron gate, drawn open, just a few hundred feet in front of them. "So this is it," she mutters.

"Hey," he says, "it's better than being dead on the side of the road, right?" He can't resist glancing over to her. "At least you'll get some help, you know?"

"Whoop-ie," she cheers tonelessly.

"You better adjust that attitude if you want to make it to the end of your year," he informs her.

Her head snaps around to face him. "_Year?_" She repeats incredulously.

He shrugs. "What did you expect, three weeks?"

"Six months, at most!"

"Yeah, well…" He grins. "Too bad."

She shakes her head at him. "You are such an asshole."

"I told you I'd get you help," he replies patiently. "You could have refused and stayed back in Seattle, but I brought you here to help you…" He levels his gaze with hers seriously. "Are you really not going to take it?"

She sighs tiredly, surprising both of them by cracking a smile. "God, I told you you had a thing for damsels in distress."

He almost snorts with laughter. "This is a _thing_?" He questions in amusement.

She shrugs, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "You wouldn't stop staring at me the entire ride up here. What was I supposed to think?"

"I was staring at you because you look like a freak."

"Uh-huh," she chuckles, getting to her feet and stepping out of the car. "Right."

He follows after her, shutting the car door behind him and jogging slightly to catch up. She strides almost purposely towards the clinic's entrance, and he gets the feelings she's doing so willfully just to spite him. Just as he's on her heels, she spins around to face him. He almost stumbles backwards; they aren't more than half a foot apart.

"Admit it," she whispers with a wicked grin as she stares up at him. "I'm dangerous…" She pushes her shoulders back, lifting her chest and face to his. "And it turns you on."

He's about to laugh, but before he can catch his breath to do so, she's crashed her lips to his, reaching up and digging her nails into the back of his neck. She can feel his muscles jump in surprise, but a second later, he's kissing her back and burrowing a hand in her messy dreadlocks to pull her closer. She takes his lower lip between her teeth, biting it sharply before pulling her lips away.

"Told you," she whispers, pressing her forehead against his. She takes a deep breath, keeping her eyes closed, and he watches in quiet fascination as her mouth twitches up into a smile for just the shortest second. But then she's pulled back, stepped away, and opened her eyes. "I knew I turned you on," she says smugly.

He frowns, shrugging indifferently. "Get rid of all the piercings and then maybe we'll talk."

She smirks, letting her tongue run over the ring on her lip. "What, I'm not sexy enough for you just like this, baby?"

She watches the ghost of a smile flitter about his lips. "You're a bit too cracked-out for me," he replies. She doesn't miss how he avoids the question.

"Hm," she murmurs. "I thought we already established the fact that you've got a thing for dangerous girls."

He smirks, looking away for a second. "Most would consider me a dangerous guy, you know."

She snorts in reply, rolling her eyes. "_Right_. You, dangerous."

"I have my moments."

She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, is that a threat?" She grins. "Or a suggestion?"

He smiles slightly before nodding towards the building behind her. "Why don't you get cleaned up first and then we'll find out?"

She turns around, eyeing the building critically. "You really expect me to think you won't have anything going on once I get out of here?"

He tilts his head to the side when she glances back at him. "Why, Alexandra…" He watches as her nose scrunches in disapproval at the use of her given name, but she doesn't make a move to correct him. "Were you just implying that you find me attractive?"

She bites her lip cheekily, turning away without another word and heading up the pale gravel path. The stones crunch beneath her feet with each step, but the sound grows quieter and more distant with every step she takes. He waits a few feet from the car, intent on not letting his eyes leave her until she reaches the building.

But halfway there, she stops, smiling to herself in secret amusement. Mark watches her, curious, as her arms come up to fiddle with part of her face. From his vantage point, he can't tell what she's doing. When she turns around and walks back towards him, he stands still, wondering what's going on. Without an explanation, she grabs his hand, pressing her other palm into his. He's about to look down at the oddly intimate contact, but before he can, she leans up and slams her lips against his for a second time.

He almost stumbles away in surprise, but one when of her hands comes up to grip the back of his neck, he finds himself leaning forward into the kiss. Just when he's about to take a step forward, she steps back, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I got your souvenir, now you've got mine," she smirks, stepping away.

He smiles slightly, coming back to himself slowly. Her back is to him when he calls out, "Since when is a kiss a souvenir?"

He watches as she looks over her shoulder. She lips her hand, running her thumb over her bottom lip and casting him a devilish smile. It's then that he realizes what she was fiddling with before. He looks down at his hand, the one she grabbed with hers, and sees a small ring resting in his palm. _Get rid of all the piercings and maybe we'll talk._

"So we'll talk later, I take it?" She calls, catching his eye.

He laughs silently to himself for a moment, staring after her in wonder. She doesn't look back as she walks into the rehab center, but he could swear she turned her head towards him for just a fifth of a second as she stepped inside.

_A fifth of a second, that's all it takes._

_ To memorize?_

_ To know._

. . .

_Author's Note: So what did you guys think of AU Mark and Lexie? I've got to say, I had a surprisingly fun time writing them! Please leave me your thoughts in a review, I would love to hear them!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

_Author's Note: WOW, everyone! I did not expect that sort of immediate (let alone large!) response to this story at all! Thank you all **so much** for your reviews, alerts, and favorites! It made my day so much better every time I saw a new email from FFN about this fic. Thank you so much, you guys._

_In light of that, (as you can pretty easily tell) I have decided to continue this story, despite the fact that it was going to be a one-shot. That's due to popular demand... And also due to the fact that I'm falling more and more in love with this crack-(literally)-ship._

_Again, thank you all so much for your reviews on the last chapter. I hope you like this one as well :)_

_Warning: **This chapter is rated** **M** for explicit sexual content, as well as references to suicide and self-mutilation. There is also language. You have been warned; proceed if you must! ;)_

. . .

_1 year later…_

_. . ._

Mark Sloan stands alone outside the gates of the Bellingham Drug Abuse Rehabilitation Center, staring at the closed doors and willing them to open. It's June and though he's far from sweating in the cool Washington air, he is uncomfortable. He turns away from the imposing building, returning to his pacing from moments ago. He stares at his feet, crossing his arms as he makes circuit after circuit in front of the large wrought-iron gate.

He doesn't stop until he hears another pair of feet crunch across the gravel ten minutes later. He looks up immediately, coming to a standstill at the sight of her. He pulls off his sunglasses slowly, blinking in the midday sun at the figure approaching him with a cheeky smile on her face.

"What in the _hell_ happened to you?" He asks flatly, eyeing her critically.

She chuckles shortly, continuing down the gravel entrance towards him. "I got bored of the dreads," she explains, looking up at him and running an almost self-conscious hand through her straight, smooth hair. She takes a lock of it between her fingers, staring at it momentarily. The last time she sported her natural hair, she was sixteen years old.

He stares at her. "_This_ is your real hair?" He asks, taking in its dark, glossy sheen. It almost shines in the sunlight. "_This?_"

She grins, flicking her head to the side and shaking her hair enthusiastically out over her back. "Why, you like it, huh?" She asks with raised eyebrows.

He stares at her, shaking his head in disbelief. Though he tries to find her, he can't even see the strung-out junkie he dropped off here twelve months ago. He barely recognizes her anymore. "You look…" He searches for the right word. "Different," he finally settles on.

She shrugs, coming to a slow stop a few feet from him. "I feel different."

"You're clean?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, I'm high, Mark," she replies sarcastically. "The orderlies were great; they gave me a line anytime I asked."

He closes his eyes, debating telling her it isn't funny, but ignores the urge. She would just ignore him and laugh it off, anyway. "Fine, whatever," he replies, turning towards the car. "As long as you're healthy… Well, it's all worth it, right?"

"Speaking of which…" She says, falling into step beside him as he turns away. "Just about how much money did you drop to get me in here?"

Mark shrugs.

"I have no intention of being your charity case," she informs him seriously.

He turns his head to look at her, noting the grave look in her eyes. "And I never had any intention of letting you become that," he replies. "I'm sure you'll find a way to pay me back." She holds his gaze, nodding after a moment, before climbing into the car. As she settles into the passenger's side, he takes his seat behind the wheel, and starts the car without another word.

. . .

Twenty minutes later, when they're just about to hit the first real town in miles, she speaks. "Mark," she says.

He looks over. "Yeah?"

"I…" She begins slowly, smiling to herself when his eyes go back to focusing on the road as she trails off. "I am… really trying to stay clean here—"

"What did you do?" He interrupts, his eyes flashing over to hers seriously.

She bites her lip, trying not to lash out at him. "Nothing," she replies calmly after a moment. "I was just going to suggest that I really feel like getting high right now…" He opens his mouth to speak, but before he has a chance to, she leans over, resting her hand on his leg suggestively. His eyes flicker to hers, and she watches as whatever he was about to say dies in his throat. She rubs his thigh for a few seconds before cupping his crotch with her left hand. She watches as his body twitches, and she grins saucily at him when he manages to tear his eyes from the road again. "Why don't we find a hotel?" She suggests, catching his eye momentarily.

"Hell," he mutters, biting back a groan as she caresses him and readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Let's just do it in the street."

She laughs, squeezing him one last time before removing her hand. "Drive fast," she grins.

. . .

After going at speeds that would have earned him an enormous fine if there had been any cops around, Mark pulled into the first motel they saw. It was very obviously run down; the 'welcome' sign seemed to be missing its 'wel,' which Lexie was quick to point out (_"Look, it's destiny!" She had grinned. "Even the motel wants us to fuck.")_ as they drove through. Mark struggled to ignore her and keep his body under control as they slid into one of many open parking spaces. Acquiring a room took all of three minutes, and the walk to it took even less.

"This has to be one of the shittiest places I've ever had to misfortune to sleep at," Lexie announces when the step into their room. The twelve-by-twelve room is dull and Spartan. The bed and dresser barely fit inside, and with all the square footage they take up, almost no space is left to walk around on. A door to the right of the bed leads to what seems to be an adjoining bathroom, though it looks to be barely big enough to house even the smallest toilet. Mark shuts the door behind them, placing the room key, his wallet, and his car keys on the dresser next to the door.

"And that's saying something, considering it's coming from your mouth, junkie," he adds, following in behind her.

Lexie grins, turning around to look him in the eye as she rests her hands on the collar of his shirt. "Well, aren't you clever?"

He smirks, taking a few steps forward and backing her towards the bed. "I don't even want to _think _about where you've spent most nights," he mutters, wrapping his arms around her thin waist.

"Well, good news," she replies, flipping them around just as the backs of her knees were about the hit the mattress. "You won't have to." She puts both her hands on his shoulders, applying downward pressure until he sits on the bed. She looks down to find that he's grinning up to her. His hands on her waist pull her close.

"Do I get a striptease?" He murmurs, pushing her shirt up a couple inches and running his fingers over the bare skin underneath.

"No," she replies, reaching down to lift up the hem of his shirt. She grins, pulling it up. "But I do."

After separating his shirt from his body, she tosses it behind them, stepping forward until he's forced to lean back against the bedspread to make room for her. She lifts her legs, kneels on the edge of the bedspread and crouching over him.

"I can't quite work my magic when you've got me pinned down like this," he smirks, looking up at her. She bites her lip, unconsciously running her teeth over the spot where her lip ring used to be.

"I can work mine, though," she replies, bending down and attaching her lips to his neck. Mark exhales roughly, his hands slipping back to cup her bottom as her lips trail down his chest. She alternates between placing kisses and light bites a diagonal trail down his torso. When she reaches the waist of his jeans, her eyes flicker up to his as she places an open-mouthed kiss right above the button of his pants.

Before he has a chance to utter a word, she's unbuckled his pants, pulled them down to his knees, and tugged his boxers away, too. He groans aloud when his erection springs free, closing his eyes in anticipation.

"Lex," he hisses when her hands take ahold of him as she kneels on the floor. "Jesus, Lexie…"

She smiles, running her hands up and down his length torturously slow. "Lexie, is it?"

"What?" He grunts, trying to make sense of her words through the haze of pleasure she's locked him in. "You… don't want me to call you that?" He manages to ask.

"Call me whatever you like," she whispers softly, her fingers dancing over his substantial erection for a second before taking him deeply into her mouth.

"Oh, fucking hell," he curses as her warm mouth descends on him. "Fuck, Lex… Lexie…" A strangled groan escapes his lips as she sucks him deep into her mouth. He looks down moments later when he feels her fingers caressing his balls. He can see the proud mischief in her eyes as she continues her assault of pleasure on his quick-to-surrender body.

"I'm… Jesus, Lex, I'm…" He stuttered through a half-coherent warning when he felt himself about to burst, but she ignored him, opting instead to increase her efforts twofold. He finished in a haze of pleasure, and she never hesitated nor pulled away when he came.

He lay there, afterwards, spread out on the bed and panting. Her mouth left him slowly, licking and pressing light kisses to his smooth skin before getting to her feet and lifting her face to his. He tilted his head up from the bed, staring her in the eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathes when she climbs back up to straddle him.

"Aw," she coos, bending down to kiss his lips briefly. "Don't tell me you're worn out already?"

He sits up immediately, wrapping his arms around her back and growling, "Not even close," before crashing his lips onto hers. She kisses his back, her hands gripping the back of his neck as she wraps her legs back around his body. His tongue forces its way into her mouth, and she accepts it willingly, moaning slightly as she yields him entrance. Her legs tighten around his waist, and she can feel his arousal grow again through the fabric of her jeans. When the break apart for air, her lips travel to his neck as his hands burrow into her silky-smooth brown hair. She moans aloud when he tugs on the dark strands, pulling her face away from her skin so they can look each other in the eye.

"You're still wearing clothes," he informs her, letting his hands drift from her hair, down her back, and to the hem of her shirt again.

"I was getting to that part," she half-pants, reaching forward to kiss him hard on the lips. With his eyes still open wide in surprise, he's finally able to pick out some more differences besides her hair. "You got rid of the nose rings," he mutters when she pulls back. She nods, dragging her teeth over her lip. A seductive smile spreads over her face.

"But I have piercings in other places, too, if you're curious," she whispers, running her hands down his bare chest. She holds his gaze, rubbing her bottom against his groin. "Wanna see?" She teases in a half-whisper.

He only manages a weak groan in response, and she takes it for a yes. She leans forward, kissing him deeply and pressing him further back against the bed. His hands wrap around her back, trying to pull her body against his, but she shakes him off. She sits up, grinding his bottom against his again, and lifts her arms to peel off her t-shirt and discard her bra. "How's this for a striptease?" She asks with a smirk, watching as his eyes go wide at her bare, pierced breasts. "Hot, huh?" She grins at his speechlessness, bending over him and pressing her lips to his.

A few seconds into the kiss, she feels his hands cup her hips again. She's only momentarily caught off-guard when he flips them around, giving himself the dominating position above her. She doesn't even have time to make a joke out of his apparent preference in positions before his lips have descended on her. He sucks the skin of her neck so intensely, she gasps at the feeling, arching her back towards his. She murmuring his name, in whispers and pants, as he presses open-mouthed kisses across her thin abdomen a minute later. His lips travel upward slowly, licking the light sheen of sweat on her skin. When he comes to her breasts, he doesn't pause as she thought he would. Instead, he starts on the right, kissing up the side of the small mound gently. She wriggles slightly beneath his soft touch, wanting more and more. A half-second later, he obliges her silent wish, surrounding her small breast with his lips and sucking her pierced nipple into his mouth and lathering it with his tongue. She's moaning loudly now, and just as he's finishing the equal treatment on her right breast, his hand drifts down her body. His hand sneaks under the waist of her jeans and underwear, cupping her wet heat.

"Jesus, Lex," he curses, burrowing his head between her breasts with a groan. "Did you already come, or what?"

She half-grins in reply, but oddly, it isn't of the same excited caliber it was a moment ago. Lost in arousal and excitement, though, Mark fails to notice her change in expression as he ducks down to unbutton her jeans. Her hands clamp onto his with a death grip just as he's about to pull them down her legs. He looks up at her, confused at the sudden red light between them.

"What?" He asks, still half-breathless.

"I…" She swallows, staring down at him. She has no idea how to explain. "I…"

"What is it?" He smiles. "You can't tell me you don't want to seal the deal, here." He smirks when she averts her eyes from his. "You're one of the most brazen women I've ever met, and now you're too shy to let me take off your pants?" He chuckles in disbelief. "God, that clinic really did a number on you."

He finally notices that she's looking down and hanging her head slightly a moment later. She refuses to meet his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers immediately. "I was kidding, I was being an ass, I—"

"Just shut up," she cuts in, moving to the edge of the bed and gets slowly to her feet. Mark closes his eyes, internally cursing himself for being so stupid and insensitive. He squeezes his eyes shut, bringing his hand to his forehead and pressing his fist against his skin. All it took was thirty seconds of him acting like a grade-A dick, and now the girl he's spent every day of the last twelve months thinking of is about to disappear from him forever. But when he opens his eyes, she's standing naked before him. He watches as she swallows roughly before coming back to bed.

"Look," he begins quietly, quickly elevating himself into a sitting position, "if you're not ready, we don't have to—"

"Mark," she interrupts. "It's been a year. Of course I'm ready. It's just…" She kneels in front of him, placing her hands above the space between her thighs protectively. "I need to explain something to you first, because I don't want to freak you out." She takes a breath. "I… I know this isn't something you'd necessarily expect," she begins softly, "but the—the thing is—"

"Wait," he cuts in. "You're not a virgin, are you?"

A genuine smirk breaks out on her face for a moment. "I just went down on you like a pro and you're asking me if this is my first fuck?" She laughs dryly.

He smiles slightly. "Well, you're…" He gestures to her hands, which are still resting above her thighs. He stares at her, and she feels her heart beat faster at the gentle look in his eyes. "What's wrong?" He asks softly.

"My mom died when I was just a kid," she begins quietly. Her voice is so hushed that he has to strain to hear her even though she's less than two feet away. "And, afterwards, I… s—started cutting myself." She closes her eyes, trying to steady herself, but her words still shake anyway. "M—My dad committed suicide not long after, so I knew right then… I—I knew there was no cure for the misery I was feeling. There was no easy fix, in fact, there was no fix at all. There was nothing I could do to feel better."

"You tried to kill yourself?" Mark guesses quietly.

To his surprise, she shakes her head. "No," she whispers. "I thought about it, hundreds of times… But I couldn't do it. And that's… That's part of the reason behind the cutting, too. It wasn't just because I lost my mom, it was because I… I felt so weak, so pathetic. My mom battled her illness, my dad had to balls to shoot himself… But a—all I could do was cut," she whispers, "I couldn't even kill. I couldn't even take control of my life _that _much, even to end it."

He sighs quietly, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek gently when she finishes talking. "You know now that that isn't pathetic, right?" He inquires softly. "You aren't weak, you're strong." He stares at her seriously. "You know that, right?"

She nods, looking down. "Yeah, I know," she whispers. "I know." She takes a deep breath, looking away. "The reason I told you," she continues, "is because I don't want to freak you out." She looks back at him. "Anymore that I already have, that is."

"You haven't freaked me out," he replies.

She gives him a half-smile, the one she reserves for those she know will run off once they know the truth. She's more than a little hurt that she ended up having to use it on him after all this. "You haven't seen the scars," she mutters.

He shifts forward, placing his hand atop the two of hers. He meets her eyes, pressing his hand between both of hers to touch the place where her thighs meet. He can just barely feel the scar tissue against a few of his fingers. "Let me see the scars, then."

She shakes her head. "It will freak you out."

"It won't," he replies. When she doesn't respond, he tilts his head, speaking quietly. "Why did you have me bring you here, then?" He asks. "You knew I'd want you, you knew what would end up happening between us… If you weren't going to let me see you in the first place, then why offer at all?"

She shrugs, glancing up at him. "Maybe I thought I was so good at blowjobs, and we wouldn't even need to screw," she offers.

He gives her a weak half-smile. "You're fantastic, trust me… But that isn't why." He stares at her. "You wanted me to see this."

"No, I did not."

"Then why did you take off your clothes?"

"Because it was expected of me."  
>He lets out a humorless laugh. "Since when do you do what's expected of you? You could have left me here, blue-balling for weeks, and I would never have thought something was amiss."<p>

A tiny smile turns up her lips. "Weeks?"

He tilts his head towards her, "Don't get cocky, now."

Silence falls between them for a few seconds until Lexie takes a breath. "I don't know," she whispers. "On some level, I guess I wanted you to see. But then when it came time for it…" She swallows. "When I said I didn't want to freak you out, I meant it. The scars, they… They scared most guys off, even those who weren't fazed by the dreads or the tattoos or the piercings… And the others…" She sighs, looking down. "I could just tell that the whole time we were together, they were wondering what the fuck was wrong with me that I'd take a knife to myself that many times, that deeply."

"There's nothing wrong with you," he replies quietly.

She stares at him before closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose. "God," she mutters, "why do you have to sound so honest all the time?"

"Because I'm being honest," he tells her seriously. She opens her eyes, meeting his. "Right now, I'm telling you the truth, Lex. There is _nothing _wrong with you."

"But there was," she whispers after a moment.

He shrugs. "Maybe. But that's for you to be the judge of. It's your life."

She bites her lip hard, staring down at their hands, piled atop her legs. She's trying desperately to believe what he's saying, but it just all seem too preposterous to be true.

"If you aren't ready," he whispers after a few seconds, "that's okay."

She looks up at him slowly, shaking her head. "No, I'm ready."

"Lexie," he murmurs.

She closes her eyes at the soft way he says her name. "I just don't want this to mean nothing," she explains in whisper. "I don't want to be some chick you had your fun with and then left behind."

"I would never do that to you."

"Regardless," she replies, lifting her eyes to his. "I don't want this to just be just a casual fuck, just a way to get off…" She bites her lip. "You—you aren't like the others, and I… God," she murmurs, "I really don't want you to be like the others."

"I'll be whoever you want me to be, Lex."

She closes her eyes, lifting her hands from her thighs and lying back. She bends her knees as she does so. He doesn't miss the fact that she keeps them locked together. "When you leave," she whispers, "don't try to give me a bullshit excuse like all the others did." She tilts her head to stare at him from the mattress. "I said you were different, don't prove me wrong in the end."

He stares after her, but she shuts her eyes closed after she finishes speaking. Gently, he reaches out, running one hand from the junction of her thighs to her knees. His middle finger dips slightly between her legs as he does so, and it's then that he begins to feel some of the scarring. He moves closer, catching her gaze and holding it all the while.

"Can I..." He asks quietly, placing his hands lightly on either calf. She nods quickly. He can tell her nerves are all over the place, so he separates her legs slowly, holding her gaze until they're far enough apart. And then he looks.

He tries not to focus completely on the scarring, but its far too prominent not to notice immediately. Hundreds of untreated cuts—there must be close to half a thousand crisscrossing over her once-pristine skin—have been opened up and then forced closed all over her inner thighs. He studies the scars for a moment, relieved at least to see that they've healed over time. There is no recent scarring, nor any open or scabbed-over cuts. He runs his hands lightly over the collection of heartbreaking momentos, testing her. Her legs don't flinch, shiver, or move, and he sighs softly in relief. Since no response was elicited, they must be years and years old. His eyes travel over her legs again. On average, they're probably a decade old, maybe even older. Staring at the damage, he thinks for a moment, taking a breath. Bending forward, he hopes that he's doing the right thing.

Lexie almost jumps in surprise when his lips settle on her inner thighs. He can hear her suck in a breath, but he tries not to let her anxiety faze him. He places one hand on the outer edge of her right thigh, rubbing her skin softly, and with the other, he reaches up and rests it her stomach. After kissing the length of a five-inch-long scar, he looks up to meet her gaze. He can see that her wide, worried eyes have followed and are continuing to follow his every movement. He strokes the skin of her abdomen slowly, reassuringly, as he holds her gaze firmly with his. She shivers slightly at his light touch on her stomach. After a few seconds, her hand moves to hold his. Her grip is steel-tight, and her watchful eyes haven't moved from his face, just as his lips haven't stopped tracing over her scars.

"Mark," she whispers after a time. Her voice sounds choked and far away. He presses one last kiss to a particularly deep cut before lifting his head to look up at her. He bends forward, crouching above her. He can feel her hand clutch his even tighter. She whispers his name again, and he stares at her in worry, terrified he did the wrong thing after all. "No one…" She sniffs, and he watches as a tear falls down either side of her face as she blinks up at him. "No one's ever done that before," she whispers, not bothering to wipe the salty moisture away. "No one, no one cared, no one…No one ever…" She trails off, shaking her head. She bites her lip, unable to speak. He bends forward, kissing her briefly. After he pulls back, he tentatively reaches his arm out towards her. He runs his hand over the side of her face tenderly.

"You are so beautiful," he tells her, his voice as gentle as his hands. "Despite everything you've been through, you are still so beautiful."

Lexie smiles slowly, as if she's nervous to believe him. A moment later, she leans up to kiss him. He can feel the moisture from her tears on his face when she kisses him. Her lips are surprisingly soft, and he can feel a 'thank-you' in the way they press gently against his. "That's what the doctor in the ER told me," she whispers when her head settles back against the mattress a moment later.

Mark raises his eyebrows. "What, you screwed him, too?" Lexie shakes her head with a quiet laugh.

"No, no, he wasn't my type." She grins, "Plus, I wanted to save my virtue for my knight in shining armor."

Mark laughs. "Good to know, fair maiden." He grins a second later. "But he was lying, you know," he tells her. She states at him, confused. "You looked hideous with those dreads," he informs her.

Lexie chuckles quietly, lifting her head and shaking out her long hair. "And this boring stuff is so much better?"

"Oh, yeah. You almost look like a normal human being," he teases.

"Tattoos are next on the list of body accessories to eradicate, I take it?"

He frowns. "I'd start with the nipple rings, if I were you."

"Aw," she pouts, "but I like them." She reaches up, running her fingernails down his bare chest, remembering how enthusiastically he'd welcomed her breasts into his warm mouth just minutes earlier. "And I think you liked them, too."

He shakes his head, but she can see a smile peeking out of his forced frown. She's about to push the subject, just for fun, but by that time, he's recaptured her lips with his, and his hands are trailing down towards her body towards warm center. His fingers play with her for a moment, hesitating, before dipping intimately into the needy, wanting space between her legs. She moans aloud in pleasure, breaking away from the kiss for air, when his smooth digits begin exploring her wet folds.

"Oh, god, Mark," she whispers a few seconds later when she can't take it anymore, "please…"

"What do you want?" He whispers, kissing her neck. "Tell me what you want," he murmurs softly in her ear.

"I… I…" Lexie stammers, feeling her head cloud over. She smiles slightly absentmindedly, realizing the truth of her words before. _I really feel like getting high right now. _Being with him, it appears, has actually been enough to drive her sky high. "You," she manages a few seconds later. _Why did I ever need drugs?_ "You, I need you."

A small smile turns up Mark's lips, and in a second, he's positioned himself just centimeters from her entrance. "You have me," he murmurs, locking his blue eyes with her brown ones as he guides himself inside her. Her eyes fall closed when he buries himself within her, and they both let out a collective moan at the connection. Despite the overwhelming urge he's feeling to move, he holds himself still within her until her eyes open again and seek his out. Wordlessly, she untangles her hand from his grip. She reaches up with both hands, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. He takes a steadying breath before moving out and thrusting back in. He bends over her, pressing kisses to the valley between her breasts as he continues moving within her. Soon, unable to catch his breath enough to continue kissing her, he buries his head in the center of her chest, closing his eyes.

"L—Look at me," she pants a few seconds later, trying to catch her breath as the temperature in the room and between them seems to continually skyrocket. He lifts his head, a surprisingly laborious task, and finds her dark eyes immediately. "You'll—" She breaks off, swallowing as her shallow breaths start to come even quicker. "You'll stay with me?" She manages to ask, her wide eyes locked with his. "You'll stay?"

He nods immediately. "Yes," he replies breathlessly, wondering why she phrased her sentence as a question instead of a statement. "Yes, of course I'll stay with you."

. . .

**_She has eyes as big as porcelain plates_**

**_And skin as thin as paper drapes_**

**_And she loved the Lord the way an apostate loves songs_**

**_And she'd sing to Him before she went to sleep:_**

**_"I pray to you, my soul to keep. You're my shepherd, then I'll be your sheep until dawn._**

**_Oh, until dawn…_**

**_Well, I'd follow you even if it was wrong."_**

**_. . ._**

_Author's Note: There will be at least one more part to this. :) But please note that it might take me a bit longer to write the next part. This whole section just kind of came to me out of the blue today, which rarely happens. All I had to do was write it down, but I have a lot more to work on with the last part of the story._

_Please review, everyone. The feedback from the first chapter was incredibly inspiring and every review helped me to continue writing._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

_Author's Note: You guys are fantastic! Thank you again for all your amazing reviews! Once again, my day was made. Continuously. :)_

_Alright, anyone who's read my stuff before knows I take forever to update... (Jimena, I'm surprised you were the only one to point this out! haha) But it turns out it's a lot easier to write a chapter a day when you don't have any homework and you've become literally **obsessed** with a crack-ship. ;) Please enjoy…_

. . .

"Should I have visited?" Mark asks quietly later that day as they lie together, spread out on separate sides of the messy bed. The afternoon light filters in through miniscule gaps in the closed blinds to the right of the bed.

"Hm?" Lexie murmurs, half-asleep beside him. She squints as the light hits her eyes when she opens them. She lifts a hand to shield her gaze as she stares at him.

"Should I have visited you?" He asks again, turning his head on his pillow to get a good look at her. "While you were in rehab, should I…" He trails off, almost too embarrassed to ask.

"It would have been nice to have you there," she replies quietly after a few moments. Mark looks away immediately, nodding. _Great. _"But," she adds, "I don't know if I would have ever be okay with the fact that you would have seen me like that."

He stares at her silently. He reaches out, touching her temple and trailing his fingers slowly down the curve of her face. "You made it through," he reminds her quietly.

"I know."

"Things will only get better."

She laughs, but the sound isn't as bleak as Mark would have expected. "So I've been told." She shifts her shoulders, yawning and stretching her muscles. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I almost did visit," he replies. He glances over to her. "I, uh, I drove up to see you almost every month, actually. I just…" He frowns. "I never made it to the door."

She nods, understanding easily. "I scared you off."

He stares at her, and his gaze is so piercing she can't do anything but hold it with hers. "Does it look like that's what happened?" He questions quietly. She swallows in reply, looking down.

"Anyway," she mutters a moment later. "While I was at Bellingham, I did some research…"

Mark smirks, finding that he isn't the least perturbed in her rapid subject change. "Oh, yeah? What did it take you, all of ten seconds?"

Lexie smiles slightly. "I was thinking," she continues, ignoring him, "that maybe I should go back to school."

Mark looks over, his eyebrows drawn together in surprise. "Really?" He asks. "Where were you thinking of going?"

Lexie shrugs. "Wherever."

"You finished high school?"

She nods. "I had poor grades senior year, but…" She shrugs. "Who didn't? Plus, even back then, I knew I would really kill all my chances in life if I didn't at least graduate high school. I knew I could get by without a college degree, but with no high school diploma…" She grimaces. "I wasn't exactly looking forward to a life of mopping the floors in the old gymnasium."

"So what do you want to study?" He asks. "What do you want to do?"

"I was going to go with medicine or law," Lexie replies.

Mark laughs, but she can hear the happy ring to it and she knows it isn't an insult. He glances over, grinning at her a moment later. "Well, look who's turning her life around."

Lexie rolls her eyes. "I haven't _done _anything yet," she reminds him. "Plus, I still need four years at a decent undergraduate college before I can even start to think about potentially getting into the lowest post-grad program." She quirks her lips. "I considered nursing, you know, since they have those accelerated programs… But I have a photographic memory to put to use." She grins, tapping her forehead and eyeing him. "I was trying to pick a discipline with the largest amount of information to learn."

He smirks. "So you can show off?"

"So I can succeed," she replies, "for once. And I never thought about it before, but either law or medical school would be a breeze with my memory…" She shrugs. "Or both…"

He smiles, chuckling. "Well… I guess I wouldn't be averse to seeing you at work everyday, if you went the physician route."

Lexie looks over, trying to hide the shock that's written all over her face at his words. "Um…Where do you work?" She manages to ask a few seconds later.

"Nowhere, actually," he replies without embarrassment. "I quit a few weeks back, and since I've had more than enough to live on…" He glances over, and she can see the sheepish look on his face. "I've been waiting to see you, actually, to, uh, decide what I'm going to do next."

"Me?"

"Yeah. I didn't know if… Well…" He takes a breath. "I didn't know if you wanted to try… _this… _Us, together. Actually try, I mean. And if you don't, that's fine, we'll go our separate ways, whatever. But if you wanted to… _be_ together, I thought, I don't know… I could give you a place to live, and now that you mention it, help with school if you wanted it."

"Wow," she laughs, reaching out to poke his side. "Now look who's getting serious. First you get me cleaned up, now you're proposing."

He frowns. "I said I could help you in the short-term, not that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Aw," she pouts, rolling over to look at him. "Now we're only short-term, baby? What happened to forever?"

"Shut up," he mutters. "I just wanted to help you out, is all. I'm being a good person. I'm putting others before myself."

"Yeah," she replies with an amused grin. "You've been doing a lot of that recently." She lifts a hand, ticking off each item as she says them. "First you pay for my rehab, then you offer to put a roof over my head, and _now_ you're saying you can get me through medical school…" She grins. "Dr. Sloan, I believe you have a thing for me."

"You forgot me bringing you into the ER," Mark adds. "I put you before myself then, too."

She smiles faintly. "Yes, you did. …And when have I put _you_ before _me_?"

He thinks for a moment. "Well… I _did_ get to come first." His eyes flicker over to hers with a lazy grin. "I _think_," he adds.

She smirks at him. "Oh, honey," she murmurs patronizingly, reaching over and placing a hand on his forearm. "You coming first was inevitable, trust me."

She watches his eyes sparkle with mischief for a moment before he rolls over, pinning her beneath him. His face hovers centimeters from hers, and she can feel his warm and familiar breath ghost over her skin. A second later, he's pushing her ratty t-shirt away from her abdomen and trailing his lips down her body. He grins widely when her hips arch up ever so slightly off the bed when his mouth meets the top of her panties.

"Let's see who lasts the longest _this_ time," he whispers tauntingly before pushing her underwear down her legs. She's about to protest his obvious advantage in this particular situation, but by the time she thinks to open her mouth, his hands have snuck between her bottom and the sheets. When his hands cups her ass, lifting her center to his mouth and taking his first taste, all of her protests die—unvoiced and immediately forgotten—in her throat as a wanton moan takes their place and pushes its way to the surface.

. . .

Lexie wakes up sometime around four the next morning, groggy but pleasantly satisfied. She looks over her shoulder, but Mark's still sleeping soundly to her right. When she takes a breath, she immediately notices how dry and parched her throat is. Quietly, as not to wake up, she pulls off the covers and gets to her feet. Seeing as there are no complimentary water bottles or even glasses in the room, she slips on her shoes, remembering that there was a vending machine with water in it near the reception desk. Considering the state of the motel on average, she doesn't even want to try drinking from the faucet. She stops by the dresser near the door, picking up his wallet and leafing through its contents to borrow a single—and that's when her eyes land on it.

There's a condom tucked in the back of his wallet.

She blinks, feeling her mouth grow even dryer and her throat close up in panic. _No, no, no, no, no. _She reaches out for the edge of the dresser, trying not to pass out as her mind starts to spin out of control. _No, _she thinks immediately. _No, that's not possible. We had to have used protection. We _had_ to. I would never… Never, ever…_

She closes her eyes, clutching the wooden dresser tight and remembering the many passionate and unpredictable ways they'd copulated in the last twelve hours… _But I _always_ use protection, _she feels like screaming. _Always!_ She spins around, catching side of his still-slumbering half-naked body wrapped in the sheets._ Oh, god, what was I thinking? _She whirls back around. _Oh, god, oh, god, oh—_

In seconds, she's reached in his wallet and grabbed the rest of his cash, pulled open the door, and headed down the stairs. Thankfully, even at this cheap motel, there's someone at reception. The man behind the desk eyes her loose, worn t-shirt and men's boxers warily, but calls her a cab when she requests it without comment.

. . .

"_Seattle?" _The tired cabbie repeats in disbelief. "No way. I am not wasting almost my entire shift on one ride. Not at this hour."

"You have to," Lexie tells him, putting her hand on the driver's window. "I really need a ride."

He glances over her shoulder, and she knows her lackluster surroundings will either make or break her case. His eyes return to hers slowly, taking in her haphazard outfit. "You in some kind of big trouble or somethin', girl?"

"No," she replies immediately, glancing over her shoulder nervously. "I—I just need to get to Seattle. I promise I'll pay you, I…" She glances down at the fistful of cash in her hand, realizing that it amounts to almost four hundred dollars. She holds out a couple of the fifties so he can see. "I have enough to pay you, I swear. And—if we leave right now, I'll pay you immediately. You can take it all."

The cabbie lets out a long sigh, staring at her for a few silent seconds. The wait feels like an eternity to Lexie, and her anxiety does nothing but amplify in that time. Finally, she hears the metallic sound of taxi's locks being unlatched. She practically jumps into the cab, moving quickly so the driver won't have time to rethink the decision.

"Alright," he mutters, putting the car in drive and pulling out of the motel's parking lot. "Where in Seattle do you have to go?"

"North of the city," Lexie replies. "But…" She bites her lip, forcing herself to hold onto her last few shreds of calm and keep herself composed. "Can you take me to the nearest pharmacy first? Something twenty-four hours?" _Please, _she almost adds, but holds her tongue. Over the years, she has made a point of never begging others for help. _Don't show weakness and you won't get hurt._

The cab driver meets her eyes knowingly in the rearview mirror, letting out another long sigh. "You're just in normal trouble, then, I take it?"

"Just drive, will you?" She whispers unsteadily, feeling her heart begin to beat out of her chest. The cabbie's only reply is to take a left into town, coasting through the dead and deserted streets until they finally pass by one of the only buildings left open at this hour.

. . .

She pays for her two items in cash, tossing a few wrinkled bills on the counter before twisting open the water bottle and ripping open the small cardboard box. She downs both pills immediately, not caring that the pharmacist is staring at her with wide eyes. She debates saying 'thank-you' just because she's so relieved, or possibly swallowing the entire package of pills in panic, but she quickly pushes both thoughts out of her mind. She leaves the pharmacy without a word, stuffing her purchases back into their plastic bag before running to the exit.

. . .

"Hey," the driver shouts. "Hey, wake up, back there!"

Lexie Grey jolts awake two hours later, one hand instinctively clutching the plastic bag and the other, her money. "What?" She mumbles, trying to jump-start her brain. She looks out the window, recognizing the familiar surroundings. "It's two streets over," she informs the driver tiredly before he can ask.

He pulls into the large gravel parking lot slowly, letting the wheels crunch against the grey stones. "You sure this is where you wanna be?" He asks skeptically, taking a look around and the dark expanse surrounding them.

She nods rapidly. "Just—will you wait? Just ten minutes, then you can take me back."

"Oh, joy," he mutters. A second later, he takes note of the desperate look in her eyes. "Fine," he acquiesces a moment later. He taps the digital clock on the radio. "You've got ten minutes, that's it."

Without a word, Lexie exits the cab, heading across the gravel parking lot. She walks at a slow pace, scared to disturb the still night. But when she glances over her shoulder, she notices the driver's watching her and his car is still running. She picks up the pace immediately, and knowing now that he wasn't kidding about the time limit, sprints to the far end of the field. Her breath is coming in quick gasps as she nears the edge of the property. Just as she's about to reach her destination, she trips, sprawling to her knees on the wet grass.

_Perfect, _she thinks to herself harshly. _Bend down and beg for forgiveness._

She feels her chin tremble at her own thoughts, and in seconds, tears are raining down her face. "I am so sorry," she whispers immediately, staring straight ahead. "I'm so—" Her voice is choked away in just one second, and the only sound that can be heard in the darkness for the next few minutes are her own strangled sobs. When she manages to pull herself together, her breathing is still heavy and her words are still clogged with tears. "I know you would hate me if you were still alive," she whispers, staring at the worn headstone before her. Her lips tremble. "If you passed on one thing to me before you died, it was to always take responsibility of my actions." She covers her mouth with her hand, bending forward as she tries to hold in another sobbing fit. She manages to remove it, and swallows down the sob a minute later. "And what've I done?" She whispers. "I've taken zero responsibility. I—I let myself fall apart when you died, and I—I let Dad…" She trails off, shaking her head. She struggles to calculate how many minutes she has left.

_Two minutes, tops._

"I let everyone down, but the—the worst was, I let you down." She wipes her eyes roughly. "If you were still alive, you would disown me," she whispers into the night. "You would not want one thing to do with me. And I wouldn't blame you, because no one wants anything to do with me. No one _should _want anything to do with me. But…" She shakes her head, leaning back and craning her neck to look at the sky. "But he does," she cries, "and I…" She swallows again, and the lump in her throat gets stuck. "I don't know what to do." She takes a breath. "He—he's helped me, he really has, more than anyone else, but I…" She shakes her head, bending down to bury her face in her hands. "I—I don't know if I can…" She inhales a sharp breath, switching from one thought to the next. "I'm—not going to change, Mom. I'm never—I'm never going to be who I was before, and I… I don't think I can ever make myself normal enough—not for him, not for anyone." She stares at the old gravestone. "Please," she whispers brokenly, "please just tell me what to do. Mom, please, I—"

A car horn interrupts her, and Lexie whips her head around, half-terrified the driver has left without her. "Let's go!" She can just barely hear his distant shout. In seconds, though, she's stumbled to her feet, clutching her sparse and cursed belongings to her chest as she sprints back to the taxi.

"Get what you came for?" The cabbie asks impatiently as she climbs into the backseat.

Lexie shakes her head, pressing her body into the far corner of the cab as the driver pulls back onto the main road. She rummages in the plastic bag, pulling out all the money she has left. She throws it over the seat without a word. She can feel the driver staring at her in the rearview window, but she ignores him. Instead, she bends her knees on the seat, wraps her arms around her legs, and tries to hold herself together. "Not even close," she barely manages to whisper.

. . .

_Author's Note: Again, there will be another part. (And again, it might take some more time, but we'll see...)_

**_Please review, everyone!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

_A note to all you worriers out there: Guys, it's okay! The cab was taking her back, not further away. She hasn't run off. Yet._

_Author's Note: Okay, wow. I've gone through multiple different re-writes of this chapter, and even though I'm satisfied with how it ended up, it's amazing how much I wrote that didn't quite make it in. I hope it's still good, anyway :)_

PS: _Thank you all very much for your reviews, story alerts, and favorites! They were very inspiring to see :)_  
>. . .<p>

It's almost eight in the morning when Lexie finally returns to the motel. She and the cab driver part ways without a word, him with his money and her with her crumpled plastic bag. She looks around the second she steps out of the cab, shivering slightly in the surprisingly chilly morning air. Her clothes are still damp from the cemetery's grass, and the cool breeze does nothing to help dry them. She holds her breath as she stands on the cracked pavement, letting her eyes scan anywhere and everywhere. She's finally able to take a relieved breath when she can't see him, and heads into the motel's lobby.

But the illusion of peace is quickly shattered.

"Where the _fuck _have you been?"

Lexie's head immediately swivels to her right, and she can easily pinpoint the speaker, who's the only other person in the room and is currently striding angrily towards her. She debates making a run for the cab that only just pulled away, but she quickly strikes the notion down, knowing he'd only follow after her.

Lexie bites back a sigh. "I had a shitty night, Mark," she mutters when he's close enough to hear. "Just leave me alone."

"Oh, _I'm sorry,_" he mocks, meeting her face to face. "_You _had a shitty night—"

"_Mark_." She grounds out his name, a warning that she isn't to be tested right now.

"Do you want to know what kind of night _I _had?" He presses angrily.

"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway," she replies under her breath.

"I woke up and you _weren't here_," he shouts. "I woke up and waited in that room for you for _two hours. _And when it was finally late enough that I could come down here and talk to the receptionist, he told you me called a cab at _four in the morning_ and then _never came back._" He closes his eyes momentarily, taking an angry breath that, to Lexie, sounds more like a snarl than an intake of air. "Tell me where you went _right now _and then I will _think _about forgiving you."

"Great, I get to beg for your forgiveness, too," Lexie mutters under her breath.

"What was that?" Mark asks menacingly, taking a step towards her.

"Nothing," Lexie replies defiantly, shoving him back a step with a hand on his chest before walking toward the door for the stairs. "Leave me alone," she calls over her shoulder just before disappearing into the stairwell. She takes the stairs two at a time, knowing he'll do just about everything except when she asked of him, and attempting to distance herself from him as quickly as possible. And sure enough, just as she's reaching the second floor, the door connecting the stairway to the lobby is pushed open. His calls for her to stop echo up around the room, but she ignores them. Instead, she walks briskly down the second-floor hallway and quickly swipes the room's door open. She swings it shut behind her, hoping to deter the inevitable fight for a few seconds, but when the door doesn't slam back into place, she knows he's caught it and is right behind her.

"I said, _leave me alone,_" she informs him without turning around as she heads to the far side of the room. Still shivering, she grabs the first article of clothing she sees, a black jacket that was previously sitting in a heap against the wall. She pulls the oversized garment on over her sleeveless shirt and rubs her arms together to try to warm up. "I don't want to talk to you."

"You had a whole night to be alone," he replies, fixing his eyes on her back as she walks to the other side of the bed. "And now it's time to talk. Tell me where you were, tell me what you were doing. Right now."

She scoffs, glaring at him over her shoulder. "Oh, fuck off, Mark."

"Hey," he calls after her, stepping forward to grab her wrist and hold her in place before she leaves the room. "You think I didn't notice that you ransacked my wallet?"

She purses her lips angrily, but doesn't reply.

"You stole all my cash," he growls at her. "I had three hundred and eighty dollars in there. Tell me what you spent it on."

She glares at him. "It's none of your damn business what I spend it on."

"That would be true if it was your money, but it was _mine_—" He breaks off, stepping forward. She glares right back up at him as he attempts to tower over her. "What did you buy with it?"

"None of your _damn_ business," she repeats.

She watches as his eyes flash at her sharp retort. "Are you high?" He demands angrily, taking a step towards her and attempting to intimidate the truth out of her.

Her eyes widen, outraged and betrayed in equal measure. " Am I—Am I—" She breaks off, sputtering. "How _dare_ you—"

"Save the theatrics for someone who'll actually believe them," he cuts in impatiently. "What did you take? What are you on?"

"_Nothing._"

His piercing blue eyes narrow at her. "Cut the shit," he orders. "Tell me right now what drugs you spent my money on."

"I didn't _buy drugs._"

"Sure," he replies in a mockingly compromising tone. "If it wasn't drugs, then what did you buy that cost almost four hundred dollars?"

Lexie's mouth pinches angrily, and even though she wants to throw she truth in his face, she finds that she can't quite look him in the eye and get the words out. Not now. It's too soon. So she says nothing, and he backs away from her almost immediately.

She watches as he closes his eyes, sinking onto the nearby bed and putting his head in his hands. She can hear him exhale, long and slow, as he rubs his face roughly like he's trying to bring feeling back into frozen skin.

"I cannot _believe_ I fell for this," he utters after a time.

Lexie stares at him, still on-edge and now confused. "Fell for what?" She manages to ask after a second.

When he opens his eyes, they're usually lively blue depths are dead and exhausted. He shakes his head at her disapprovingly, and the strangely calm look on his face makes her insides twist together painfully. "I took a chance with you, okay?" She feels her heart pick up double-time; somehow her body has already realized that she won't like the direction his somber words are headed in. "I took a real chance picking you up that night in Seattle, and again picking you up at Bellingham. I thought—especially after you went through rehab—that things had changed with you. I thought that maybe, just _maybe_ you really were turning your life around." He sighs, but his eyes stay trained on hers. "But then the _first _thing you did when I wasn't paying attention was throw it all away to get high. It was the _first _thing you did."

"I didn't—" Lexie tries to interrupt.

"Makes sense," he continues over her interjection, "Since I'm sure none of this mattered to you." He reaches up to massage his forehead tiredly. Lexie finds she doesn't even have the breath to speak. "And the sad part is, I _know_ junkies. I know how they work, I know what they do. I _know them, _but for some inane reason I didn't think you were one of them. I thought you were different, but…" He shakes his head with a sad smile. "I _really_ need to learn to trust my instincts. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: you're a junkie." He stares at her. "And junkies never change. They just use people till they get what they want, and once they've gotten it and their target ceases being useful, they sneak away to prey on the next idiot that's weak enough and gullible enough to believe them."

He sighs slowly, letting the air drag audibly from between his lips as a small smile takes shape on his mouth. Lexie is still struggling to take a breath. "You really played it perfectly, though, you know? I mean, _god—"_ he half laughs, and the sound is bitter and disturbing. "Seriously, you had me completely convinced. You did _everything_ right: You told me a sad story, you regaled me with your secret little hopes and dreams, you screwed me enough times to make me think this might actually _mean_ something… And just like that, I was hooked. Piece of cake for you, I'm sure.

"…And then when I finally fell asleep, you took advantage of the opportunity before you." He takes a slow breath, and Lexie watches him do so, finding that she can't even manage to exhale the air she's been holding since he began speaking. "What I don't understand, though, is why you came back." He lifts his head, staring at her in quiet curiosity. "You had almost four hundred dollars. That's enough to set you up for a little while, enough to hold you over until you find the next pathetic loser to put a roof over your head and get you a few good meals before you skip town again…" He stares at her. "Despite everything, I am actually _genuinely curious… _Why did you even bother coming back here? What's the point?"

She shakes her head at him, slowly and continuously, as she tries desperately not to let the emotion bubbling up inside her to break to the surface. When she manages to take a breath, though, it is audibly ragged and forced. And then everything falls apart.

"Well," she begins in an already cracking voice, "if you're curious enough for the _truth_, Mark, you should know that I spent your goddamn money on emergency contraceptives and a cab ride to visit my dead mother in Seattle." Her tear-filled eyes meet his, and through her own watery haze she watches as the color and expression both fall from his face. "But that's the same as snorting coke to you, now, isn't it?" She smiles bitterly. "Because people like me never change."

As he processes her words, his eyes widen and his mouth falls open. "W—Wait," he tries to say, "you—"

"And if you _really_ wanted to know," she continues in a whisper, hugging herself tight, "I came back here because I have nowhere else to go." She takes a steadying breath. "B—But you know what? Even—even if I did have a place to live or a home, I'd still come back here, because you were here. I would still come back to wherever you were because…" Her chin trembles. "You're the only person in my life that I care about or even _remotely_ trust." She takes a sharp breath. "Well, you _were,_" she corrects, shrinking away from him and heading to the door. "Congratulations, you've proven once again that I'm better off alone." She smiles weakly. "I guess I need to learn to trust my instincts, too, huh?"

"No, Lexie—"

"Don't worry," she cuts in with a mocking smile. She rests her shaking hand on the doorframe. "I'll dedicate my next hit to you."

She leaves the room without another word, letting the door fall closed behind her as she walks as fast as she can to the stairs. When she hears the door open quietly behind her, she picks up the pace, knowing that he's following after her. She presses a hand tightly over her mouth to hold in the sobs she knows are bound to escape at any moment. _Don't let him see, don't let him see, don't let him see._

Just as she's about to reach the door to the staircase, she feels a hand grab her wrist. She's moving forward so quickly that the restraining grip jerks her back without even meaning to. And without stopping to think, she spins around. Her hand is closed in a tight fist, and she only has a split-second to see the look of complete shock cross his face before it collides with his cheekbone.

She breaks away from his grip immediately, feeling her breath freeze in her chest. Her hands are shaking, and she can't even begin to wrap her mind around what just happened. Only one thought consumes her mind: _flee._

"Don't…" She takes a quick breath, finding that now her entire body is shaking. She backs away from him, terrified of herself, as she speaks. "Don't you _dare _follow after me," she whispers hoarsely, her voice breaking.

"Lexie," he manages, stepping towards her. Her eyes are wide, glued to his cheek and waiting for a bruise to blossom. "I'm sorry," he whispers, ignoring the dull throbbing in the side of his face as he tries to make her understand. "I'm _so_ sorry, I just—I thought you relapsed—It was the first thing that came to mind—I never meant to—"

"Exactly," she cuts in quietly. She bites her lip, and the tears she's been trying desperately to hold back finally fall from her eyes. "That's the first thing you thought of," she cries. "I—I left in the middle of the night, and the first thing you thought was that I left to get high. Not that I was in trouble or that I knew I was in way too far over my head with you… Not that I was _terrified_." She shakes her head, biting down hard enough on her lower lip to split it open and draw blood. "I was back in the real world one day, but you obviously thought that was too long of a time for me to go without taking a hit. Forget that you put me in rehab, forget that I came out, already months clean. Forget that you're one of the only people who has ever supported me or cared about me or—" She breaks off. "No," she concludes quietly. "You forgot all that. You forgot everything that's happened between us, and all you thought was, 'She's a junkie.' So you assumed the first thing—the _only _thing—I would want to do is get high. You didn't think that I _liked_ getting to know you, or that I _liked _spending time with you, or that I was actually working on turning my life around _because of _you. It… It never crossed your mind that the last twelve hours I spent with you have meant more to me than anything or anyone else ever has. No," she whispers, sniffing. "No, you assumed the _only _reason I was here was because I wanted to get high. And you…" Lexie trails off; she can barely speak the words. She shakes her head, speechless, and the movement dislodges a fresh wave of tears. They fall down her cheeks and drop to the floor. "You thought I _used you_. You thought it was all a lie, all a ruse."

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I—"

Her voice cracks. "For drugs, no less."

"I am _so _sorry. Lexie, please, I'm—"

"Don't apologize," she interrupts quietly. "You were right, anyway. People like me don't change. We don't learn, we don't mature…" She pulls crosses her arms, pulling the large dark jacket close around her body as she backs away from him. "Just go…go back to wherever you came from, Mark. I'll be fine on my own."

. . .

Even though she expressly told him not to follow after her, the second Mark watches her leave the lobby entrance he begins planning to follow after her. He's almost tailing her right out the door until he realizes he doesn't have his keys with him. He curses himself, heading back up to the room to find them quickly and then run back downstairs.

But he never finds them.

He searches the room, top to bottom, but it's just as bare of his keys as it is of decoration.

It's thirty minutes later when he finally realizes where he left them. He feels a cool breeze come through the open window, and automatically looks for his jacket to put on over his thin t-shirt… Only to discover that it isn't where he left it on the floor earlier that morning. He checks under the bed immediately, but the keys didn't fall out of his pocket, which means they still must be in his jacket. And she was wearing when she left.

. . .

"I have all the same problems as yesterday," Lexie whispers into the now-warm air. She sits in the summer grass, hugging her knees to her chest. "But one worse, in the fact that I punched the only person who cares about me in the face. I actually _punched_ him," she whispers. Her lower lip trembles and Lexie's unsure if she's more ashamed or shocked at her violent outburst.

"I, I went back to him but…" She bends down, resting her forehead on her knees and closing her eyes. "But like everyone else, he just thought I was using him. He thought I spent the night getting high, not that I came here…" She sighs quietly, spreading her legs out and sitting cross-legged on the grass. "Mom, I really ruined things," she whispers, burying her hands among the plentiful green strands. "And I… I don't think they can be fixed." She sniffs, lifting a hand to wipe her face. "I…I think I broke us, whatever we were, and now I have no one." She bites her lower lip hard, trying to stop her chin from shaking in inconsolable sorrow. "He was the _one_ person who cared about me, and I pushed him away like I push everyone away."

. . .

It takes Mark another hour, full of pacing and cursing, until he finally realizes that there's a way to find her. After making a quick phone call and doing a little coaxing, he has an address. He calls a cab immediately, and two minutes later, Mark's hopping into the backseat. "Tell me you take Visa," he says in lieu of greeting.

The cabbie nods.

"Great, thank you." He puts his hand on the divider between the front and back seats, catching the driver's eye. "I apologize in advance for not being able to flash the cash, but trust me, I can and will pay whatever you want." The driver stares at him, confused. "How much do I have to bribe you to get you to break the speed limit?"

"On the highway?" The cabbie clarifies without missing a beat.

"On every street between here and Seattle," Mark replies.

The cabbie sighs, pulling around the entrance of the motel. "It'll cost you double the original fare, _at least_." Mark breathes a sigh of relief, sitting back against the seat. The cabbie glances back at him. "And if I get pulled over, you will be paying my fine."

"Deal."

"How fast are we talking?"

"As fast as you can go."

. . .

Mark Sloan steps out of the cab uneasily, casting his eye around the sparse and damp parking lot as he checks that he's at the correct address for the third time. As he stares out across the bare expanse before him, he spots his car out of the corner of his eye. It's in the far side of the lot, parked irregularly and taking up two spaces. Motioning to the driver to wait a second, he walks to the far side of the gravel parking lot, staring down the well-kept fields before him. In rows dispersed about seven feet apart, hundreds of headstones rest above the green grass. On the furthest reaches of the smoothly rolling hill that spreads over the graveyard, he's able to just manage to make out a small figure, sitting completely still, just a couple feet from one of the headstones.

He turns back to the cab and its driver slowly, glancing over his shoulder as he does so. When the distant figure doesn't disappear as he was half-worried would happen, he takes a few steps back to the cab. "I'm good here," he tells the driver. "I'd, uh, tip you, but..." _But she stole all my cash_.

The man waves a hand. "Some asshole mugged you, I get it." He grins, pulling away. "You tripling the fee made this trip actually worthwhile, even with no tip."

He doesn't wait for the cabbie pulls away before he sets out across the fields. It takes him five minutes to reach the far edge of the property, even at the brisk pace he adhered to. He comes to a stop a few feet from her, trying not to let his body tense up too much.

She doesn't turn to acknowledge him, nor offer even one syllable in greeting. He does the same, and they stand and sit in quiet, separate silences for a time. Eventually, she speaks. "How's your face?"

He shrugs, feeling some of his muscles relax at the sound of her voice. "It's fine."

"You're lying."

He doesn't reply. Instead, he runs his fingers lightly over the left side of his face. He hasn't looked in the mirror, but he's sure his skin has taken on a bluish-purple tinge since the time she inflicted the injury. "I had no idea you had enough force in those little arms to pack that kind of punch," he notes after a second. She doesn't smile.

"Too bad you had to find out."

"Yeah," he replies. "Guess so."

They lapse into silence again, and in the stillness, he takes a few slow steps towards her. She doesn't look over when he takes a seat just a couple feet to her right.

"This is your mom?" He asks after a few silent minutes. He looks to Lexie, but she doesn't make any acknowledgement that she heard him. He turns back to the headstone, quickly reading the inscription. "Hi, Mrs. Grey. Lovely to meet you." He glances to his right, but she's still ignoring him and staring straight ahead. "I have to say, it's a real relief to finally know you're daughter's last name. I thought I'd—"

"How in the hell did you find me?"

Mark turns his head, surprised to find that she's addressing him directly, even though she's still avoiding looking at him.

He sighs quietly. "I called the police, actually."

Her eyes widen, shooting to his. "You _what_?"

"Calm down," he mutters, turning his body towards hers so he doesn't have to crane his neck to look at her. She does the same, and they stare at each other face-to-face as he explains: "I told them I had a fight with my girlfriend and that she drove off in my car and didn't come back. I managed to weasel the location of the car out of one of the officers by telling him that I just wanted to find her and make sure she was okay." Half of his mouth turns up in a lopsided smirk. "He heavily suggested that I press charges. I didn't," he adds when she doesn't reply.

She blinks slowly, and he takes this for acknowledgement. After a few seconds, he moves forward across the grass until they're sitting with their knees only a few inches apart. He reaches out, attempting to place his hand on her leg.

"Please don't touch me," she whispers hoarsely. She bites the inside of her lip, watching as his face twists in guilt and sorrow for a moment before he draws his hand away.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asks quietly. "Is there any way I can make this better? Any way that I can take back what I said?"

She shakes her head. "No," she manages tearfully. "There's nothing you can do. It is what it is."

"Lexie…"

"Do you…" She takes a ragged breath. "Do you understand what this meant to me?" She manages in a cracked whisper. He stays quiet, waiting for her to elaborate. She looks over at him, her eyes as red as raw meat. "The—the things I showed you… What I told you…" She bites her lip hard again, and a few more tears fall from her eyes. She ignores them and makes no move to wipe them away. "Mark, I have _never_ told anyone what I did to myself before." She stares him straight in the eye. "People assumed, obviously, but I never actually _told _them. But you… I—I trusted you and I told you, and you…" She sniffs loudly, finally reaching up to swipe at her face roughly to get rid of the tears. "You thought it was a joke. You thought it was some lie I made up to get you to pity me."

"No, I didn't—"

"Yes, _you did_," Lexie corrects forcefully. "You said so; you thought it was all part of my master plan to steal your cash and find a dealer. And you… God, you have no idea how much that hurt."

"I'm sorry," he whispers imploringly. "I—I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry I didn't believe what you tried to tell me today, but Lex… Lex, I knew you were serious when you showed me the scars, okay? It wasn't a joke to me."

She laughs weakly. "Right."

"I believed you," he presses. "I never thought you were trying to screw me over. It never crossed my mind."

"Huh, well you sure were quick to throw around accusations when the time came," Lexie replies bitterly.

Mark sighs. "You have no idea how sorry I am about what I said," he tells her. "I know I can't take it back, I know I can't make it right… But let me at least try to explain, okay?" He stares at her, waiting for permission to continue. He takes her silence as such.

"I woke up and the first thing I thought of was you. But when I rolled over, you weren't there. So I waited. And I waited. And the longer I waited, the more worried I became. Maybe you were lost, maybe you were hurt…" He takes a breath. "I went through a million different horrific scenarios in my head, but the idea that scared me the most was, maybe you relapsed. And the more I tried to ignore of that very real possibility, the more it came into my mind. The more it got stuck there. And it terrified me… Because I knew if you went back to drugs, you'd be gone from me forever."

"Mark…"

"I knew that the second you got high again, you wouldn't remember me. I wouldn't matter to you. And I couldn't… God, Lex, I couldn't face that reality." He takes a breath. "So that's why I immediately thought you were high again—because the idea had been hiding in my mind since I woke up hours earlier. But as for everything else I said…" He shakes his head. "There is no excuse. There is nothing I can say to make that better, I know. And I get it if you can't look at me again, or you can't see me the same way. I… You have no idea how sorry I am that I was so cruel to you," he whispers. "I just, I thought you'd slipped away me, and I was so angry, so scared because…" He closes his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. "When I said I _fell for this,_" he continues quietly after a minute as he looks up to meet her eyes,"I meant that I…I fell for _you_."

He can almost hear her intake of breath beside him. "What?" She manages.

"I…" He looks to the grass, closing his eyes. She watches his Adam's apple bob nervously as he tries to swallow. "I think there's a very good chance that I'm in love with you."

"We've…known each other a day," she manages to whisper, unable to raise her voice.

He shakes his head. "It's been…so much longer than that."

"You can't count the time I was in rehab," she replies automatically. "You can't, Mark, that doesn't count."

"I told you I went up to visit you," Mark reminds her. "And I never made it to see you, but that doesn't mean that I didn't try. It doesn't mean that you weren't on my mind." He stares at her. "You're all I've thought about for the last three hundred and sixty-five days," he admits. "Sixty-six, if you include today."

She gets to her feet, walking away. "Don't do this," she mutters. She glances over her shoulder at him, raising her voice. "I don't want to have this conversation."

"Fine," he replies calmly. "We don't have to have a conversation."

She stares at him in outraged incredulity. "You're just going to leave it out there, hanging? Aren't you going to _do _something—"

He shrugs. "What else do I need to do? I said my piece and you heard it."

"That's...it?"

He nods, watching as she walks about ten paces away before turning back around. "Okay," she whispers when she stands before him again. "I heard you and I… I can _try_ to understand."

"Good. That's all I want to hear."

"But, Mark, I…" She swallows the lump in her throat. "You realize that I'm not ready to say it back? That I… I _can't _say it back?"

He nods. "That's okay," he replies quietly.

She stares at him. "Is it, though?" She whispers, her voice hushed with fright.

He takes a slow breath, getting to his feet as well. "Lex," he begins softly, "I don't need you to say it back. I can understand what you're feeling without making you say the words. But I... I can't." He stares at her. "I _need_ you to know how I feel, even if it's just once, okay?"

"Why?" She asks.

He takes a small step forward. "This way," he begins quietly, struggling to resist the urge to reach out and touch her. "This way, if you decide to run off again, you'll at least know that there's someone in this world who cares about you. You'll know that there's someone you can always come back to."

"Mark..."

"No matter what happens," he continues, starting at her without even a shred of insincerity. "I just want you to know I'm here for you. That's all."

He watches as her lip trembles. Tears spring into her eyelids and then fall from her brown eyes a moment later. She reaches out hesitantly to touch the bruise she left on his face. She bites her lip hard when he flinches just the tiniest bit, but a second later, he's leaning into her touch and closing his eyes. She continues stroking the side of his face gently as she speaks. "Did my mother send you?" She whispers.

Mark opens his eyes, staring at her in confusion. "What?"

"You're too good for me," Lexie explains. Her hand drifts down the side of his face to his neck, falling to rest on his chest. Her hand stays suspended there, with her fingertips just barely grazing the fabric of his shirt. "You are perfect and I don't deserve you."

"So that means I must be here through divine intervention?" He asks softly.

"In my case, yes."

He smiles slightly, shaking his head. "I'm here for you, Lex. No one sent me. I want to be here. I want to be with you."

She bites her lip, forcing herself to stare at the mark she left on his face. "...Why?"

"You know why."

"Mark, I—" She swallows. "I can't say it back to you. I can't, not now, but please… Please tell me you understand. Please."

"Lex," he whispers with a small smile. "I told you before. I don't need you to say it. And of course I understand."

She bites her lip. "But… how?"

He sighs softly, taking another step towards her until they're just a foot apart. He reaches out tentatively, and when his hand grazes hers, she threads their fingers together without hesitation. "I just do."

"You're sure?" She whispers, looking up into his eyes.

He nods. "Very sure."

They stand like that—face-to-face and holding hands—for a long while. Eventually, just as the sun is climbing to the middle of the sky, Mark asks, "Can we go back now?"

Lexie shakes her head.

"You want to stay here?" He guesses, automatically glancing toward her mother's headstone.

"No," Lexie replies quietly. "I just…" She takes a breath, blinking slowly. When she opens her eyes, he's still staring at her. "I just don't want to go back there, okay? Can we… Can we go somewhere else? Can we move on?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but here. Anywhere but Washington. I think I…" She swallows. "I think I need to leave for a while. I think I need to just _not_ be here."

Mark nods. "Not here it is. You wanna go east or south?"

Lexie thinks for a moment. He watches as her lips flicker in a small smile before she finally answers, "East, for now."

"Okay," Mark replies as they turn and head back to the car. "East for now."

. . .

_Author's Note: This was the last official chapter, but there will be an epilogue to tie up some loose ends. I hope you liked it :)_

_Please continue to be some of the best reviewers ever and hit the button below :)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Epilogue**

_Author's Note: Originally this was going to be part of the last chapter and I wasn't going to have an epilogue… Until I realized how long this section had gotten. I hope you like it :)_

_I'd quickly like to say thank-you to one of the anons, since I can't reply directly to them: violet1979, for your very flattering review :) It was very sweet; I'm glad you're taking a liking to the story, even though it isn't the typical Mark/Lexie connection._

_(Quick warning, **this chapter is rated M.** Also, I think have upped the rating of the entire chapter to M due to the content/language/subject matter/etc/etc.)_

_. . ._

Around a week later, Mark and Lexie are collapsing fully clothed on a perfectly made bed in a hotel of a much higher caliber than the one they left behind in Washington.

"I can't believe I drove for eleven hours straight today," Mark mumbles into the comforter, pressing his face into the soft fabric.

"Technically you drove for ten hours and forty-six minutes straight," Lexie corrects, lying down on her back. She grins when he turns his head to glare at her. "But by all means," she adds, "round up."

"I will," he replies, rolling over onto his back as well. "Today, I drove for eleven hours straight."

"You did."

Mark closes his eyes, yawning loudly. "Where are we, again?"

"Iowa."

He groans unhappily. "There's nothing _in_ Iowa. Why did we go east? If we had gone south instead, we could have been in California in under a day." He glares at her. "Remind me again why you picked east and not south?"

Lexie looks away, and Mark watches, interested, as a light blush colors her cheeks. He grins, leaning closer to see her expression. "What?" He asks, amused. "What's down south?"

"Southerners," Lexie replies automatically.

"No shit. But what's down there that you want to avoid?"

Lexie mumbles a reply, still not meeting his eyes.

"What?" Mark asks, turning his ear towards her.

"Las Vegas," she repeats.

Mark stares at her, frowning in confusion. "What, do you hate casinos? Or have a gambling problem?"

"No." Lexie smirks a moment later. "To tell you the truth, actually, you would walk away filthy rich if you went to a casino with me." She taps her temple. "Photographic memory, and all."

He grins. "Ah, so you play the cards."

She tries to hide a smile. "Possibly."

Mark laughs quietly. "All right, all right…" He tilts his head. "What's in Vegas that you're so worried about?"

"It's not what's _in _Vegas so much as…" She lowers her voice. "What you can _do _in Vegas…"

Mark's eyebrows draw together in confusion. "Now I'm a bit worried," he mutters, "because there are a hell of a lot of things you can do in Vegas."

Lexie lets out a tired sigh. "Okay, listen." Her eyes turn to search his. "And don't make fun of me."

"I can't exactly promise that second one."

She ignores him. "You…" She exhales in a gust. "You said you…" She trails off, staring at him with an incredibly uncomfortable expression on her face.

"Loved you?" Mark guesses, easily pinpointing the source of her insecurity. Lexie catches his eye; by the look on her face, he knows he guessed right.

"What I was worried about is… Well, you know those places…"

"What places, Lex?"

"Um, where they officiate…You know… weddings?"

Mark bursts out laughing.

"I was expecting you _not_ to make fun of me," Lexie mutters, looking away.

"Wow, you…" He trails off, still laughing. "You really are looking out for the future."

"Shut up," she mutters, shoving him roughly when she sees the mocking grin on his face.

"Should I have already bought a ring?"

"I said I was _worried _about that possibility," Lexie stresses, "not that I was looking _forward _to it, you ass."

He grins. "Uh-huh. Sure." His laughter fills the room again a moment later, and Lexie just barely resists the urge to shove him off the bed. "My _god_, that would be fantastic," he chortles. "We could live in the suburbs. Host dinner parties."

"Stop it."

"You could teach the kids about the hard and unrewarding life of being a drug addict."

"I believe I said, _shut up_," Lexie growls menacingly.

"Wanna head down tomorrow?" He grins. "I hear they take ten minutes, tops. We can even get Elvis to marry us."

His amusement dies away a few seconds later when he sees the scared look in her eyes. He quickly sobers, moving towards her.

"Mark," she whispers. "Mark, that's not me." Her worried eyes turn to meet his. "You understand that, right? That will _never _be me."

He nods seriously. "I know."

"Look, I like being with you, okay? I really do. But... I am… _never_ going to want that with you. Or with anyone. I'm never going to want to get married, I'm never going to want kids... Never."

He nods in understanding. "I know," he replies. He leans forward, touching her cheek gently and smiling to reassure her. "Lex, it's okay. I never asked for those things from you and, honestly, I don't want them either."

"You... don't?" She questions, confused. She'd expected an average guy like him to want to settle down, raise a few kids.

Mark shakes his head. "Until I ran over you—" He clears his throat with a smirk. "Sorry, ran _into _you," she rolls her eyes, "I never really kept up any long-term relationships. Or any relationships at all. So marriage and kids were never sticking points for me. They were never something I looked forward to or planned for."

A small smile curves up Lexie's lips at his reply, and then she's chuckling a moment later. "Awesome," she replies. "An ex-junkie and an ex-playboy. We make a fantastic couple."

He stares at her, eyebrows raised. "Oh, so we're a couple now, huh?"

"Shut up," she mutters, pushing him away before lying back on the pillows at the head of the bed. He joins her a moment later, stuffing a pillow beneath his head and angling his face towards hers atop it. He stares at her for a few minutes before sighing softly. "Vegas," he mutters, shaking his head. "Do you really think I'd be that tacky?"

A small smile graces her lips. "Well," she mutters, "who knows? You _are_ sleeping with a crack addict, after all."

He shrugs. "Yeah, but she went through rehab and everything." He stares at her. "I keep trying to tell her she's normal, but then she does crazy shit like stealing all my cash and driving off in my car, proving me wrong."

"Maybe she was scared," Lexie replies after a long moment.

"Maybe," he allows.

"Maybe… Maybe she didn't want to lose you."

Mark smiles gently, reaching out and laying a hand on her cheek. "And stealing my things was the way to go about making sure that didn't happen?" He asks quietly. "Sounds pretty backwards to me."

"Well," Lexie rationalizes softly, "if she takes your stuff, you'll always have to find her and get it back, right?"

Mark smiles, stroking her cheek. "That's another thing about her," he notes, leaning forward to brush her lips with his. "She's always thinking."

Lexie's grinning when he pulls back. "You know what I'm thinking now?" She whispers.

He shakes his head. "No, what?"

A smile stretches over her face, and she scoots towards him. "I don't know if you noticed," she murmurs, pressing her body against his, "but you can definitely fit two people in that bathtub."

A smirk spreads over his face automatically. "You can, can you?"

"I would bet money on it."

"You'd have to bet my money, though. Oh, wait!" He adds. "You can't bet anything because someone _stole_ all my money."

She rolls her eyes. "Trust me, if I were pregnant right now and you had a full wallet, you'd be praying that I grabbed your cash for that morning-after pill while I still could."

He stares at her. "And what if I wanted kids?" He asks, faking seriousness.

She glares at him. "How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up tonight?"

"Well, we're up to three so far."

Her eyes widen. "You've been _counting_?"

He grins. "You use that phrase an awful lot. If we made a drinking game out of it, everyone would be hammered in ten minutes."

"Shut—" She catches herself, scrunching her nose angrily.

He grins. "See?"

"I hate you," she whispers menacingly.

He laughs. "I'd say you love me, but no doubt you'd get all flustered at just the mention of the L-word."

"I do not get flustered," Lexie mutters defensively.

He grins. "Oh, really?" He leans forward, kissing her deeply. Half a minute later, his lips trail from her mouth down to her neck. He sucks on her pulse point, feeling it speed up under his touch. He pulls back when he feels her skin heat and sees a blush spread across her pale skin. Grinning triumphantly, he tells her, "I can think of a few ways you get flustered."

She purses her lips, trying to mentally calm her nerves. "I hate my body," she mutters, attempting to wave away the blush that's spreading over her neck and cheeks. "It betrays me at every turn."

"Really?" Mark asks, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her inner wrist. He bends forward a second later, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and drawing her lips to his. "Because I love it for that exact reason."

She smirks, kissing his lips briefly. "You just like seeing me caught off-guard," she grins, pulling back, "and seeing as I'm always so in-control it rarely happens."

He chuckles. "Right. You, in control."

"I can control you, can't I?"

Mark smirks. "I'd like to see you try," he taunts.

She smiles, getting up off the bed and tugging him along after her. She drops his hand as she walks toward the bathroom, using both to rid herself of an item of clothing with each step she takes. He stares after her, frozen for a couple seconds before quickly joining her in the bathroom. She's bent over, turning on the faucets when he walks in. She smirks over her shoulder when she catches him blatantly staring at her.

"Strip," she commands.

Lexie watches him hesitate with a wide grin. "This isn't fair," he announces, his eyes glued to her bare body.

She shrugs. "If you weren't always so stuck on proving me wrong and you right, you wouldn't be in this situation."

"If you hadn't taken off your clothes," Mark corrects, trying and failing to avert his eyes from her naked body as she stands before him, "I wouldn't be in this situation."

"Well," she murmurs, bending over and testing the water with her fingers, "if you're so stuck on being right, then…" He watches with rapt attention as she slowly sinks into the tub. He barely holds back a groan at her exaggerated slowness, watching her body dip beneath the water. "I guess I'll just enjoy this nice bath alone…"

"Fine," he mutters in a clipped tone, forcing himself to head to the doorway.

"…And I'll think of you," she adds with a grin when his back is turned. She watches as he pivots in place, his eyes immediately finding hers.

"What did you say?"

She smiles sweetly. "Nothing, dear," she replies mockingly.

She watches as his body twitches, and in less than a minute, he's pulling off his clothes as well. She grins, eyeing his physique appreciatively as he strips naked. "I knew you couldn't resist."

"I hate you for always being right," he mutters, sinking beneath the water.

"Don't lie," she smirks, moving across the tub to meet him on the other side. She presses her bare body against his, secretly relishing in the groan that escapes his lips when her hands close around his already-hard penis. "You love it," she whispers in his ear before tugging on the lobe with her teeth.

"Maybe a bit," he mutters, sliding his hands beneath the water to squeeze her bottom. Lexie moans quietly when his hands push her center closer to his large erection.

"Mark," she whispers, unable to stop herself from grinding against him to seek friction as her eyes fall closed. She can hear him chuckle softly, and his hands move from beneath her ass to her inner thighs. He strokes the rough skin there for a quiet moment, and when she opens her eyes at his soft touch, Mark leans forward to kiss her gently.

As the kiss deepens a few seconds later, his hands migrate upwards, skimming along her smooth skin until they come in contact with her breasts. She moans loudly when he tugs lightly on the rings in her nipples, arching her back and making herself more available to him.

By now, the water's begun escaping over the sides of the tub as they rocked their yet-to-be-joined bodies against one another. Momentarily distracted by the sloshing noise when they break for air, Mark and Lexie's eyes are both drawn to the water cascading over the lip of the tub. The floor of the bathroom is almost completely soaked, along with all their clothes.

"We should probably drain the tub," he tells her, his hands still on her breasts.

"No, no, no," Lexie replies, leaning forward to capture his lips in a quick yet searing kiss. "Let's stay here."

Mark grins when she pulls back, but moves to get up anyway. Lexie reluctantly slides off of him, turning the knob to start the drain. They're walking carefully back to the bedroom just as the last of the warm water slips down the tub. Ignoring towels, they wrap their wet bodies around each other as they stand at the foot of the bed, feeling the heat grow between them again as their mouths and tongues reconnect.

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, Mark backs Lexie towards the bed until she leans back to lie flat on it. As she does so, he crawls above her, bending low to let his lips keep in contact with hers. They move backwards on the bed until Lexie's legs no longer dangle off the sides. Just as they're finding a comfortable position, she flips them around to be on top. Lexie smiles down at Mark when she sees the surprise on his face, leaning down to kiss his wet skin. Her lips trail in a haphazard pattern down his chest, across his muscled pecs and abs.

"Mm," she murmurs, flicking her eyes up to meet his as her mouth trails closer and closer to his throbbing arousal. "I love the way your skin tastes."

"I—" Mark breaks off, groaning deep in the back of his throat when her fingers close over his erection. She smiles to herself when his eyes fall closed in pleasure.

"Mark, I have a question," she murmurs, letting her fingers glide lazily along his length.

"What?" He grunts, struggling to hold himself in check.

"If I were… hypothetically, of course," she adds, "to go back to school after all…" She trails off, purposely alternating the pressure and attentiveness of her hands on him with the sole intention of driving him insane. "I was wondering if…"

"Fuck," Mark mutters, "will you just get to the point already?"

"Would you like to be my private tutor?" Lexie whispers, lowering her voice seductively.

Mark groans in reply, opening his eyes to stare down at her. "That was a completely innocent offer when I proposed it to you," he informs her through clenched teeth. "I said I'd help you learn and now you've gone and made it all about sex."

She grins, leaning low over his erection and blowing hot air on the engorged member. "All this stuff about sex is in your head," she whispers wickedly, letting her tongue dart out to flick along the head of his penis.

"You know I hate it when you tease me," Mark grounds out.

Lexie laughs, focusing her attention more acutely on his nether regions. "Well, I love you, so you'll have to learn to deal with it."

The happy smile drops from her face a split-second later when she realizes what she just said. Her eyes fly to his in shock before quickly looking away again. "I—I—I—" She stutters, not having any idea how to save face. She can already feel her entire upper body heat up in acute embarrassment as a blush spreads over her skin.

"I didn't mean that," she manages after a moment. "I—I meant to say 'it' and… And 'you' just came out instead. It didn't mean anything," she adds quickly. "I just misspoke."

Mark simply smiles at her, propping himself up with his elbows and reaching down to pull her up to his level. With her naked body draped over his, he takes her face between his hands. His palms rest on her already pink cheeks. "Well, well, well…" He grins. "Lexie Grey…"

"I didn't mean it," she repeats stubbornly, averting her gaze from his.

His grin widens. "Yes, you did."

"Shut _up_," she snaps angrily, her eyes flashing dangerously to meet his. "I didn't mean it."

"That's four. And _yes_, you did."

She groans, pulling her face away from his hands. She covers her eyes for a moment with her hand before dropping it. She sighs in impatience. "Can we forget about this and just fuck, please?"

Mark grins. "We can definitely do that," he replies, hearing her exhale in relief. "…But there's no way I'm forgetting."

Lexie bites hard on her lower lip and her eyebrows draw together in humiliation. "I hate you so much right now," she whispers.

Mark shakes his head at her, pulling her close again and rolling them over so he's on top and hovering above her. "No," he whispers, bending down to brush his lips against hers, "you love me."

"I hate you," Lexie mumbles when he pulls back a moment later, keeping her eyes closed as punishment and refusing to look at him. They shoot open a second later, though, when she feels him tease her opening with his erection.

"Lexie," he murmurs before she can speak, "do me a favor…" He bends over her, just seconds away from joining their bodies. "And just _shut_ _up_."

Though she wanted to give him a clever reply, all Lexie can do is gasp sharply when he finally pushes inside her. Her back arches as he continues to enter her fully, and she quickly moves to wrap her arms around his neck to pull him close. They both let out quiet moans when he sheathes himself inside her to the hilt. Lexie grins up at him after she adjusts to his size, her eyes alight with desire as Mark begins to move within her almost automatically.

"That's one," she informs him wryly, waiting long enough to hear him laugh in reply before covering his mouth with hers and clutching him close.

. . .

**_Well, I swear, I lie, I curse all of my dreams…_**

**_But I swear there's still some good in me,_**

**_And I think if you stuck around you'd see—_**

**_All the honest attempts at integrity I once had_**

**_And maybe if you helped me, _**

**_I'd get it right._**

. . .

_Missy—_The Airborne Toxic Event

. . .

_Author's Note: This is the last chapter. I hope you guys have enjoyed the story; I certainly enjoyed writing it._

_P.S.—I tacked on this ending kind of last minute, and I'm a little unsure as to how I feel about it. I'm worried the 'I love you' was too cheesy (and probably out of character), but it was the last chapter so I figured I'd keep it in anyway so it was more of a happier ending. What did you guys think?_

**_Thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews during the course of this story. They were all fantastic to see and each truly did push me to keep writing._**

**_I hope you can leave me one more with your final thoughts :)_**


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